


Merry Christmas, Baby [Steve]

by Zyxst



Series: Avengers' Musical Christmas Catalogue [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Birthday Smut, Christmas, F/M, Forceful Steve Rogers, POV Steve Rogers, Possessive Steve Rogers, Reader-Insert, Steve Rogers Feels, Strip Tease, Stripper Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21902710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zyxst/pseuds/Zyxst
Summary: Steve finds out you hired a stripper for your birthday.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Avengers' Musical Christmas Catalogue [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567561
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Merry Christmas, Baby [Steve]

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Merry Christmas, Baby by Etta James
> 
> I wanted a version soulful and bluesy.
> 
> This is for anyone who has to celebrate their birthday with Xmas. Combo bday/holiday gifts suck BALLS!

To say Steve Rogers was pissed would be completely false.

Furious; nay, boiling with rage is more accurate.

He stared at the email confirming his best girl had successfully booked Hank Strap'em to dance for  
a private show. He went over the last year of their relationship, meticulously picking through every  
conversation to discover the thread causing this unraveling. 

"What the fuck does she need with a stripper!?" Steve shouted as he flung his laptop into the nearest  
wall. Chest heaving and hands on hips, he paced the room. If all she wanted was to drool over a  
naked man, he was more than happy to oblige. 

That thought sparked an idea.

He walked over, yanked the laptop free of the cracked drywall, and found it still operational. He  
sat down at his desk and put Google to work. 

<=3

Steve fluffed up the tissue paper around the roses before knocking on his girlfriend's door. He  
breathed deeply to calm himself. "Don't think about it. Don't think about it," he whispered repeatedly  
as he waited. Plastering a smile on, he held out the bouquet when she opened the door. "Happy  
birthday, honey."

She squeaked and accepted the gift. "D'aw, thank you so much!" She urged him to enter as she closed  
her eyes and inhaled the scent. "I love flowers, but I'm running out of containers!" He walked in,  
taking off his leather jacket and draping it over a chair. While she was in the kitchen dealing with  
the flowers, he set up his phone to play the selected music. "How did you know I'd be home?" she  
called. "I thought I told you I'd be out tonight?"

Smirking, he called back, "I spy on your email accounts."

"Oh ha ha," she said with a shake of her head. Carrying a tomato juice can cum flower vase, she  
returned to his side and placed the roses on a window sill. Her hands stroked up his pectorals to  
his shoulders. "Well then, I should come clean and confess."

He ran his fingers up and down her forearms wondering what the hell she needed to confess. He hadn't  
checked her emails for hours. The stern edge came out in his voice despite his attempts to keep a  
cool head. "Confess?"

"I hired an exotic dancer to do a private show for my birthday." She sighed, looking into his eyes.  
"He had to cancel. Tripped going down the stairs. Nothing major, but he's bruised a little from the  
fall."

"Oh, sweetie, that's horrible," he said, making a mental note to throw his shield harder next time.  
Not that there'd BE a next time. She'd be too busy adjusting to first-time motherhood by this time  
next year.

Pursing her lips, she shyly probed, "Sooo, you're not mad?"

"Now why would I be mad?" He brushed her hair behind her ears, cupping her face. "Sit down. Enjoy  
the show." She scurried away, curling into a corner of the loveseat. He opened up Spotify and  
touched the play icon. Horns signaled the start of his dance.

Hips and arms swaying to the beat of Etta James' rendition of Merry Christmas, Baby, Steve took  
note of his girl's reaction. She sat up straighter and began biting her lips. He eased his hands  
down the front of his jeans, one on either side of the zipper. When Etta sang out about a diamond  
ring, he unbuckled his leather belt and kept swaying until the mention of paradise. He yanked the  
buckle with his right hand, caught the other end with his left, and wrapped it around his shoulders.  
When he crossed his wrists, he brought the belt up to his mouth and bit firmly into the leather.

A muffled whine.

Steve fluttered his lashes and lowered his belt to the floor. Hands behind his head, he undid the  
cuffs while holding her attention with sensual hip rolls. He moved forward, gradually unbuttoning  
the rest of his plaid shirt. The snap of his jeans popped open. Shirt tails dragged from within.  
He turned away, the shirt falling down his back as he removed it and let it drop onto her.

"Mmmm," she sighed.

Glancing over a shoulder, he discovered her nuzzling the discarded top. She cradled it against her  
breasts and kept watching. The striptease continued with Steve running his hands up and down his  
body. He combed his hair back while toying with the bottom of his white t-shirt. Tantilizing glimpses  
of his cut abs and the dusting of blond hair leading to his groin drew giggling squeals from his  
audience. Their eyes met. He swiped a lick across his full bottom lip, bringing both hands to the  
neckline.

SCREEEEET

"Oh my God!" she moaned with barely contained happiness. The ripped in half tee was yanked down his  
arms until it reached his hands. He swept the worn cotton over his bared torso, grinding against  
it. He draped the tattered material around her neck like a scarf. Once again, he danced away when  
her hands got grabby. Frowning, he shook a finger at her. Her pouty face was irresistable. Steve  
squatted above her and deliberately bounced his tight ass against her breasts. This caused more  
delighted squealing. Taking advantage, she quickly licked his back and blew the wet spot.

With preturnatural speed, Steve imprisoned her wrists and trapped them along the sofa back. "Only  
bad girls touch the dancer. Bad girls don't get presents. You gonna keep being a bad girl?"

"no"

He released her. The song nearly over, he walked a few feet away and prepared for the finale. Hands  
fisted into the material around his hips. He jerked his hands from his legs as hard as possible,  
bracing his feet so he didn't get bowled over. It worked (for once). His stood proudly displaying  
himself, clothed only in bikini briefs and his boots. He turned off Spotify, then adjusted his  
swollen manhood that was spilling over the top of his underwear. 

"You look pretty fucking sexy in those boots." She got to her feet, placing the shirts down. "And  
I really appreciate you finally wearing those briefs I bought you."

"Then be a good girl and show me," he growled, curling a fist in her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish y'all could just see in my head when I write action sequences. I think I've written the dance greatly, but my imagination is playing the scene out just as I like it, not how everyone will see it.
> 
> Shout out to my husband for saying the belt move is sexy.


End file.
